


The Votive

by TheMetalVetruvian



Category: X-Men (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Charles Being Concerned, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Dragon Age - Freeform, Dragons, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Hurt Charles, Influenced, Just references to names/places/culture/religion/yada/yada, M/M, No actual dragon age plot points ever happen, Smitten Erik
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-04-10 10:39:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4388627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMetalVetruvian/pseuds/TheMetalVetruvian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles is a mysterious recluse that collects artifacts left in areas that have long since been destroyed. Erik is a Prince tasked with tracking Charles down, sent by his father with a message and a pile of ashes. With a recent town being set ablaze, it is an odd request to receive in the troubled times of his kingdom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Hierarchy

_Mint. Shuffling in, shuffling out, catching, yielding, breathing to breathe in desperation and rapt attention. Teeth chattering, nearly chipping and choosing to chew apart rosy lips with reckless abandon. Ignore the bitter, settling behind the tongue, focus, focused, on mountain pine that brings me home again. Mother’s milk, swaddling clothes, dusk when she lights the sage, strong hands leading me, preserve me:_

_I’m going to die._  

____________________

The third time Erik meets Charles, he has a cloth in one hand and a basket full of the same thing in the other. He steps with light feet, eyes as bright as the sky and concentrates on swiping dust from behind the ear of a Female Head. Statue, that is. It is silent, save for Charles’s breathing but he hopes he is the only one that can hear that. The air smells dry, like sand and old incense. His robes are cold slightly to his skin in the winter weather, but he has gone barefoot so the shaded clay provides some warm relief. His shoes would track in mud anyway. His eyes flicker and hone in on the dark presence glaring deeply up at the statue that stands at least a foot taller.

It is obvious why Erik paused to stare at this particular statue, even out of the hundreds of other various art works; it was the oldest, and by far the strangest, thing in Charles’s museum. Choosing to stare for only a few moments longer, curiosity and a hint of annoyance provokes him to speak, “Your gaze may linger however long you wish, but that statue will not move an inch in any direction.”

Charles hears him shift where he stands, humming thoughtfully and placing a heavy hand on the sword protruding from his belt, “That does seem to be the case. Even if it is stubborn metal, I cannot bring myself to move it. It is unlike any statue in the rest of my Kingdom.” he says.

Charles thinks that a bronze casting of the Prince picking his nails with disinterest would be an interesting pairing figure to show his “devotion” to the God that came before this Kingdom.

“No matter how strong you may be, my Prince, please do not try to move the statue.” Charles averts his gaze before the Prince could see that he was openly staring. He chooses to move a couple feet towards the Prince, standing just next to the statue, and slowly traces his fingers over deep carvings of a language long since lost to the majority, “Not that I doubt your strength, but it has a copper exterior and bronze interior. It is well over 3 Tons, and I do appreciate having feet should you choose to drop it. Also, this inscription here,” His finger strokes over the writing once more, “This is a curse, to all who move it. The wrath of their God will take away their most cherished thing.”

Contemplative, Charles looks back up at the Prince only to find Erik watching him, eyes locked and filled with emotions Charles is not willing to piece together. But he looks away, caught and embarrassed with a red flush to his cheeks.

“It is a votive figure, what you are glaring at. It is human and, because of it’s size, you can tell it is a Ruler. The giant eyes are supposed to be staring at the God. Their Sky God, a Dragon. Which is why this particular Ruler is looking, uh… up.” He glances upward at the top of the Temple, the cella’s confines feeling far too claustrophobic with the gaze on him, “And as Dragon’s are the original telepaths… well, you can see why no one is willing to move the statue. Unless you want your love to be swept into the night by a “monstrous” telepathic Sky God, who happens to be a Dragon.” Throat suddenly feeling dry, he clears it and manages to put his eyes back on Erik’s, “But you did not come here for a history lesson, that was terribly rude of me. My name is Charles Xavier, what can I do for you, My Lord?” His hands tighten on the basket, pulse thudding in his throat.

“My interest has been piqued regardless. Tell me, Charles, why would humans desire to worship a mutant God? Or, at least, one who had bestowed mutation onto humanity?” His gaze drifts up to the eyes of the devoted, then slowly shifted back down to Charles. A smile slowly broke out on Charles face, on of those smiles where you can tell that he is well versed and rehearsed and excited to teach. But before he spoke, Erik motions to his left, offering Charles to a walk. Quickly pulling his shoes from his belt, which strapped under a section of the robe, he slid into them and lead him out towards the door.

Charles, this being his area of expertise, tried to move at a calm and steady pace. However, quickly becoming enthused, his pace sped up and his voice became joyous and animated, “Well, you see, if we exit the cella and the temple,” They stepped out into the fresh air, “You’ll come to these long stairs, the Ziggurat. The stairway to heaven, if you will. This separates the Heavens from the Earth and, with that, the Gods from “mere humans”. As their Sky God does not take a humanoid form, at least that we know of, they would not be related to mutants. Or, even if telepaths had been bestowed that power in their time period, it would be likely that they would accept it out of blind faith, or fear. But that is not traditional for this area. And, as this city was mysteriously abandoned before your ancestor’s arrival decades ago, it would be safe to go along with the legend.” He paused, but a quick look at Erik’s face showed that he might not even know the legend, “The Sky God burned their homes to the ground, picking off stragglers as they ran, and only left the stone structures and his temple standing.”

Much was on Erik’s mind following the story, his eyes darting over the landscape to see the city that was rebuilt over decades.

“An interesting story, Charles, thank you.” He could see that Charles was embarrassed by being carried away yet again, so he smiled as if to reassure him that it was okay, “I would love to talk about this subject more, but I’m afraid my father has sent me here on business. And I would like to get to know you more, before we delve into seriousness. Ease the way.”

“Of course.” Charles nods, leading Erik down the steps of the Ziggurat and to a bench off to the side. The bench itself is carved from clay, grand low-relief sculptures scattering along the sides to tell a story of peace.

“I’ve heard many stories about you, Charles. You go into territories torn apart by beasts and wars and come back with whatever you can carry or smuggle through. Honestly, the stories they tell are quite romantic.” Erik did not necessarily believe it, but it would be interesting to hear any truth to the fiction.

“Not quite as romantic as stories about you, I can assure you that. Daring Prince Lehnsherr battles Beast for the Spymaster’s hand and loses, handling his grief with his head held high? Only the bravest of men can be so bold to court Lady Raven.”

“You should know that these stories always stretch the truth.”

“Of that I am well aware. Did you know I had once carried a 5 foot, freestanding, diorite sculpture right across the border, not even breaking a sweat? Those are heavy. Heavier than heavy, and more expensive than gold! And if I had done that, you can bet it would be the centerpiece of my exhibit.”

That seemed to get a charming laugh from Erik, and it warmed his heart to know he was the cause. He loved making people forget about their troubles, and from the sounds of it, Erik has had enough troubles already, “Not even I have the guts to woo the Kingdom’s eyes and ears. It was a misunderstanding. Hank is our healer and, after making a comment that I can no longer remember, he hoisted me up by the neck and scared a few of my Royal Guard. No serious thing, but everyone started calling him Beast on account of his attitude. And, he wooed our Spymaster, I had no part of that. I wanted no part of that, or those rumors.”

“Ah, the pressures of being the Prince.”

They laugh, mirth slowly quieting down into a pleasant silence in which they stare at each other. There’s a pressure between them, an electricity that Charles is attracted to. Or Erik’s magnetism- “I’m sorry, what?” He says, shaking his head.

“I said, the King has sent word to me during my travels. He asked me to come to this place, this small city, and to seek you out, and give you this.” Erik reaches to the sack attached to his belt, the opposite side of his sword, and unties it. He places it in Charles’s hands, “He’s asked if you can identify the if the soil is rich enough for crops. The sack it is held in is supposed to maintain the soil’s integrity, so it doesn’t dry out or get too wet, so do not worry about that.”  Charles’s brow is furrowed and he reaches into the sack, pinching the grit between his fingers. he pulls a piece out and his body goes rigid. It’s for a little longer than a second, definitely enough time for Erik to notice, but Charles pulls his composure back in. Placing the dirt back into the sack, he pulled the strings tight and looked up at Erik.

He was concerned, opening his mouth to ask if everything was okay, but Charles placed his hands at the side of Erik’s belt. Two fingers slipped their way past the band, urging the string through, and then pulled the other string to tie the sack to the belt. His hands took their time though, fingertips brushing here and there against his hip, “Tell the King…” He whispered, eyes going half lidded, lips far but feeling so close, “…he needs to look elsewhere.” The Prince’s eyes roam over Charles’s bare shoulder, watching a small bead of sweat trail down towards his collar bone before disappearing into the fabric, and then trail slowly back up to those sensuous red lips.

And he pulls back, which makes Erik feel like he’s being doused with cold water, cooling down the heat that warmed his leather clad hip, “I… will make sure to send that message tonight.”

Charles smiles at him, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world, and then he stands, “I’m afraid my duties to my small museum cannot be delayed any longer. I do not wish to anger the small gathering of God’s I apparently house in my temple.

“You’re superstitious, Charles?” Laughs Erik, coming to a stand as well, “I won’t keep you busy any longer. Though, my father has given orders for me to stay here. Forced vacation, I’m afraid. So I don’t believe I can keep myself from you for that long. Have a wonderful night, Charles.” He bows to Charles. Actually bows. And Charles feels such a harsh flutter in his chest that he thinks he ought to be scared.

“Goodnight, My Lord.” He bows in return, straightening to watch Erik walk back through the town until he disappeared between a cluster of homes. The air is thick and growing thicker as Charles climbs the steps of the Ziggurat, fiddling with the cloth in his hands, and keeps his mind on the burnt soil that stained his fingertips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the statue itself was inspired by the Statue of Queen Napir-Asu, which was made Ca. 1350-1300 B.C.E.  
> It's a votive statue, which means it's put in a temple to honor/worship that temple's God in place of the queen. It's not that big, only about 4 feet tall. Then again, it's missing a head so that's probably why!  
> It has a copper exterior and bronze interior, to prevent people from breaking it or moving it. But people still broke it, which is frustrating, just to deface that ruler and the Elamites in general. It weighs 2 tons.
> 
> Also, it's cursed!  
> Well, the Queen had an inscription in Cuneiform that said anyone who destroyed it/took it/sold it will be punished (by death I presume). 
> 
>  
> 
> Comments/Kudos/Constructive Criticism is what I live for!


	2. Early Bird Special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Erik have a chat, to which Charles avoids tough topics in the typical Charles fashion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is. Chapter two. Don't look at me.

The air was chilled, the skies a cold and muted blue as fog brought about the beginnings of sunrise. Between his hands sits a small leather pouch, it’s insides ashy, and it’s possessor curious. Ash stains his fingertips as he grinds them together, taking in the musky scent of burnt wood. Things were not as they seem, that much is obvious. Yet he cannot come to a satisfying conclusion of why his father would send him on a journey with a pouch of ashes. Charles knew, which was evident by his coy nature, which he had hoped to distract Erik with, and sexual provocation. 

It had nearly worked.

It did work, actually. But deep into the night his curiosity overcame him and he opened the sack, spilling it’s contents into his hand with awe and an inquisitive glare. And that brings him to the now, walking in the beginnings of dawn, sleep still crusted on the corners of his eyes, and his feet carrying him through the winding streets of the small city and into the tapered path of the forest. 

A local had relayed information, regarding Charles as a man who would begin his rituals in the soft light of morning near the rivers edge. The forest wasn’t thick, especially near it’s edges, so the sounds of flowing water did not echo off of the trees to confuse him. Finding the area was easy, but finding Charles was easier. In a land covered in green and muted rocks, Charles’s freckled skin is like a beacon. 

Charles sits with his legs folded beneath him, water dividing at the bottom of his ribs and reconvening on the other side. His hands hover above the surface, eyes half lidded but darting back and forth over the water, as if just having sat down. Pity. Erik watches as he settles his hands down into the water, shoulder muscles rotating, and released a long breath. The tension seems to melt from Charles’s spine, though that did not seem possible with how cold the water was.

Yet still, his eyes could not move from the slope of his spine, from where it disappears below the water up to the nape of his neck where his soft brown curls have nested so beautifully. And then Charles turned, his blue eyes immediately taking ahold of Erik’s and stealing his breath along with it. 

“I don’t suppose you had brought a drying cloth, have you?”

Finding his breath, which had been knocked a few miles away, he merely smiles and shakes his head, “I’m afraid not. I did not mean to interrupt.“

“It is just a bath. The locals have this strange notion that, as I get up far too early, I must be prepping the temples far too early as well.” He lifts a hand from the water and, clasped in his hand, is the soap. He sweeps it across the back of his neck to the front of his chest, eyes still on Erik’s, “But you’re a man with a question.” His eyes drop, to the sack between his hands, then drags back up to maintain eye contact.

“These ashes. What do they mean to my father? What do they mean to you? 

At this, Charles’s gaze falters and he turns back around, washing himself like Erik had never asked the question. Though Erik knew better, Charles was calculating his answer, “You know the answer, you just haven’t put it together yet.” He says, and what does that even mean? “Lothering was burnt to the ground overnight, no one saw it coming. All that was left was a pile of… ash.” Hearing it left a taste in his mouth as if food had been left behind a molar to rot, “Your daughter visits her grandparents in Lothering, does she not?”

“She… was thankfully living with her mother, at the time.” Charles stood and could see, by the look on his face, that Erik had not known that his daughter was with her mother once he received the news.

“Your father, his esteemed majesty, wishes for me to do an impossible task. But I am simply a collector of artifacts, my Prince. Why your father believes he should draw attention to me as if I am of any help is beyond me.” He lets the soap stub slip into the water and wash away, not caring much of his nude torso as his hips and lower thighs were covered by wet cloth, “I have a sister who lived in Lothering. She managed to get out, on that day.”

“How? There were barely any refugees-“

“She has a way to blend in with the crowd.” He said, words final, and walked towards the bank. Water dripped heavily from the edges of his shorts and, since he had forgotten his towel, he slipped his feet into his sandals and tied a robe around his form. As his hands tied the rope loosely around his hips, he turned, and smiled. It was a small, cryptic smile. One that Erik can’t help but believe was pained, and perhaps threatening should he have pursued the conversation, “I can explain those ashes when we return. Come, I’ll feed you.”

The forest path seemed far less interesting now that he was following Charles around. He tried to ignore the way his robe clung to the wet surface of his body, but it was Charles’s voice again that shook him out of it, “It’s quiet out here. I do love being in the presence of a village, but at times it can be far too overwhelming.” 

Though Erik did not think he meant being around people was hard, for someone as charming as Charles, it left him puzzled, “Which explains why it is so hard to track you down. It took my father a few weeks to get your accurate location. You would hate the capital then.”

“I was not aware that you had to track me. I do have a liaison for when I am not… For lack of a better word, around, in Haven. The locals care not for me, so long as my curiosity has no ill intentions. But Hank was a local, I’ve known him since he was a boy, and has been very happy to befriend me and listen to me prattle on and on about the things I’ve seen and histories I’ve shared. I’ve been lonesome since he’s been away.

Erik could think of another person he could “prattle on” to, but did not voice that particular want. Instead his eyes glanced over Charles’s shoulders, to the bottom of his neck where goosebumps clustered, and then something clicked, “Hank. Beast is your liaison? I-“ He paused, chewing over his words carefully, “-I was not aware, I do apologize for my thoughtlessness.”

“Thoughtlessness? I do not mind, few people even know that Raven is my sister. And by few, I mean one person knows. You, I suppose. I prefer to keep my name from noble lips.” He turns to look back over his shoulder, a smile so earnest it made Erik’s beating hart leap in his chest, “And, in turn, I express my glee that you were not, in fact, in pursuit of my sisters hand.” His smile had fallen, but took residence in his eyes to show his amusement and something else that Erik couldn’t place. But it sure stirred his gut into knots. Good knots, ones that made him feel suspended two feet in the air, even as he tried to wrap his head around all of this new information.

“I would not think you could survive her rejection, regardless.” Charles laughed at Erik’s surprised expression and increased his pace as they made it to the edge of the forest, looking ahead to his little temple.

“You think she could reject me, Charles? With charm like mine?” Erik pressed, only in jest as he pursued, an easy feeling in the air.

“She seems to have a type; blue apes.” He came to a little shack, made from wood but was obviously not inhabited for long periods of time. Charles turned towards the Prince, stepping back on the step to his home, and grasped him by the moderately hairy chin, “And while you have slight fur-“ He tipped Erik’s head back, fingernails scraping against the hair along the top of his adams apple, “my happily engaged sister will simply have to do without.” His hand dropped from Erik’s chin, resting at his side and they stood in silence.

At the step, Charles stood at even with Erik’s height. The silence was filled with unspoken words that their eyes said, Charles’s still having a smile and Erik’s nearly impossible to read. But Erik’s eyes dropped to Charles’s hand, the memory of having it dipped into his belt fresh at the forefront of his memory. They trailed to the parting of his robe, where his skin was raised from the cold near a collar bone to the perking nipple hidden half behind the cloth. Then the rope tying it all together dripped a single drop of water onto the stone between Charles’s feet, and Erik’s hand grasped the thin, offending cloth as his eyes slowly dragged their way back up to Charles’s eyes. He tugged, feeling the robe come loose from his efforts, the only response from Charles was his eyes dilating and lips parting. They shared a single breath as Charles’s robe fell open, and Erik held onto the piece of icy cloth like a safety cord.

“I’ll start a fire.”

Erik, who seemed like he hadn’t been affected at all, walked around Charles and invited himself inside. Charles, standing still for a few seconds, processed how to go forward until he finally turned and headed in after him. He watched as Erik bent down near the fireplace, logs in both hands as he slowly stacked them, who in turn heard the door close as he worked with a match to light the tinder. It took only a few tries, but the fire slowly spread from the pine needles to slowly light the bark and lifted wood at the edges of the pile. The bite of the cold reduced considerably, enough to where Erik could slip the jacket from his shoulders and place it a little ways away from the fire, though still close enough to trap in some of the heat. 

Standing, Erik turned to see Charles, who he thought would be changing, standing just two feet from him. His shoulders are bare, robe forgotten at his feet, and his hair slowly dries away from his forehead in a natural curl that exposes his eyes as they suck in the life of the flames. His lips, red like a smooth wine, parted and Erik steals glances at the lower row of his teeth before tracing the outline of his lower lip.

A hand grabs at Erik’s right, lifting it up towards Charles’s face and is placed partly on his cheek and partly on his neck. He eyes where the brown curls turn up towards the sky, gliding his hand against his smooth skin until he curves it over the muscled shoulder. He follows the slope of Charles’s spine, feeling a gentle shiver of what he hoped was anticipation. With a tug, Charles was snug against his chest, his other hand curling in the fine hairs on the back of his head and he tugged his head back so his body curved in a slight ’S’. 

A moan came from Charles’s lips, a moan that made Erik shiver and close his eyes for a few seconds, his hands readjusting from where they lay on his head and lower back. When they opened again, he found Charles watching him with a look that was hard to define, but it brought back the knots in his stomach and an urge of want that shook him to his core. 

He lifted Charles by the back of his thighs, pulling him up waist to waist, and wrapped the wet legs around his leather-clad hips. Charles had his arms around his neck within a second, locked tight so he wouldn’t fall. The moment their lips seal, Erik walks forward until they run into a wall. The heat of the kiss leaves a burn down Erik’s throat and tingles that will last for days. He nips at Charles’s lower lip, gliding his tongue briefly into his mouth once given the opportunity. Erik grabs one of Charles’s hands and pushes it into the wall, hand tight enough around his wrist to leave bruises. Their bodies move as one, sharing heat as well as thought. When Erik bites down again on Charles’s lower lip, he pushes his hips forwards and up, grinding deep and hard into the erection that he can feel against his own. 

Charles throws his head back in an answering moan, his hips jolting in pleasure, thighs quivering and gripping all the tighter, and his fist clenching in open air. He can feel Erik’s hand slowly release his wrist and make his way into his palm, fingers finding their place between his own and then squeezing. 

When Charles opens his eyes, he sees Erik watching him, just an inch away. He has a smile on his face, a lazy, pleasured smile, and he leans in to place a less rushed kiss upon Charles’s lips. He accepts it immediately, eyes closing in bliss and his other hand grasping his shoulder. Erik rests his head briefly in the junction of Charles’s neck and shoulder, pressing wandering kisses there. When he feels Erik pressing his hips forward again, he can barely stop his moan and his finger nails sink into his fine skin, leaving brief dents, “I…” he groaned, feeling the tongue lave against the sensitive area behind his ear, “I-I… Erik, the… uhn-“ He breaks off, toes curling as Erik’s hand slips between them and presses against his erection trapped beneath wet cloth, “Maker, just…” He grasps Erik’s hand, the one fondling him to full hardness and pulls it away, “Someone is outside. He… someone… in your retinue.” Charles is panting, but his eyes are out towards his window, gazing through the sliver that his curtain does not cover.

Erik pulls his head back from his neck, looking at Charles as if he could not possibly believe that this was important, and then follows Charles’s gaze. However, he certainly does not let Charles go from his spot in his lap, hand and hips keeping him pinned. He watches the man move back and forth, obviously debating whether or not to interrupt the Prince, though there is no way that he could know what they were doing. Or, perhaps he is wary of Charles. Judging by the rumors circulating around camp, of Charles and his rather dark artifacts, it was not a far off guess. 

A resounding knock broke him of his thoughts, “Sir, I— Are you in there?”

Erik paused, should he answer? Would he go away if he didn’t answer? He glanced up at Charles, who looked out the window as he worried his lower lip with his teeth. Knowing he would kick himself for this later, he sighed, “What?” 

“I bring news, Sir. From His Majesty.” 

Any hope that this moment could be salvaged wilts away along with his erection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've no real excuse as to why this took so long to come out, nothing that you haven't heard before. This specific image of Charles in a river wouldn't get out of my damn head so I couldn't write how I wanted it to originally go and it threw a wrench in my plot, so here we are! We're winging it from here on out (kinda)! Woo!
> 
> Curious, did anyone else actually notice how Charles didn't talk about the ashes and distracted him again with sex? I didn't even notice until I finished the chapter, it just sorta snuck up on me! Smut'll do that to you, Erik ;)
> 
> -kudos and comments are GREATLY appreciated. Let me know how you feel, talk to me, tell me about your day <3


	3. Keeping the Voyeur in Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot is finally revealed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy November, everyone!
> 
> Uh, new summary! I didn't realize that the last meant you'd have to read it three times when first reading the fic. Sorry!

When Charles had come to Haven, the first time, he had no plans to stay. The locals did not want him looking around, that was made very clear. This town did not like outsiders and were very cautious of travelers. Charles had almost wondered if an incident occurred, or if they had always acted this way. What made him stay, and what prevented him from leaving, was the temple.

Collecting had always been his hobby, finding more pieces of history locked away and abandoned in old fortresses or buried shallowly due to time encouraged his curiosity further. It started out small, things he could carry on his person without any real extreme effort. He would find bigger items as he broadened his search, things that would take more than one person to carry. For those, he would hire a few people in a nearby town to deliver it to his manor. 

This is how he met Logan. Logan would accompany him on his journeys and he could carry things that two or three Charles’s could not. When he had come upon Haven he had told Logan to return to the Manor, to watch over it while he charm the locals into letting him investigate. One month later, he sent word to Logan that the Manor was now in his name and he was not planning on returning. 

Raven was an accident. Not his, but the pre teen he had met years after residing in Haven had somehow wandered onto his doorstep and hadn’t left since. He had met her the day she had wandered into his home and began to rummage through his things. Charles didn’t know what she was looking for, but was convinced she would not find it.

“If it’s food you want, I do not keep it in there.” His presence startles her, as if she did not see him in the corner of the room, a book in his hands, since she came in, “Though I do have some rather sub par stew in that pot over there, you might want to consider making a fire to reheat it.”

She makes a fire without saying a word, watching Charles with cautious yellow eyes. He reads from the book in his hands, only acknowledging her once as he tips his head to the side to peer around the edge of the book, “Do help yourself to whatever you need.” and resumed reading.

From then, she never left his side. He learns her name, Raven, after a week of her freeloading. She has no family, at least none that is willing to come claim her, so he takes her in as his own. They became close, and she grew especially fond of the trinkets Charles would be home. He would gift to her old arrow heads and was delighted to know that she enjoyed his blabbing on about their history and evolution in cultures. 

He taught her stories of great histories that she never would have known had she not snuck into his home. In turn, she taught him to care for someone. To love them as a part of their heart, not just dearly. He enjoyed Logan’s company, as the time they had was profound and unique on it’s own terms, but, it wasn’t the same. Charles cared for the gruff muscle as he would any close friend, but he would be able to let go of Logan. It would not be easy, when it came down to it, but he was able to do it. No matter the time spent or nights shared, they knew nothing of each other that truly mattered.

Taking in Raven, caring for her for years as his sister, had taught him true fear. Fear from the dangers of the world taking his sister away from him. Distance, he could handle. Eternal distance? Not so much. Which is why, in his temple, he, after all these years, still appeases this “God”. This dragon named Shaw—

“I find it adorable that you’ve yet to seek me out, Charles.”

Charles is stiff, caught off guard like his trousers are around his ankles. He looks away from the statue, face grim enough that Erik pauses in his tracks and looks concerned, though curious. Charles bows, face turned down in a formal gesture to maintain composure through distance, “I figured you’d come when you were otherwise unoccupied with your responsibilities. Your father is well, I hope?”

The Prince watches the charade in disbelief, the formal attitude like a cold water dousing his shoulders. He’s formal, too formal for anything to be okay so something must have happened. Erik’s gaze glanced over Charles’s form to check for any maladies. None, so why is he acting as if the events the last time they met never happened? However, this does not deter Erik, who does not mention his father in return. Instead, he walks up to Charles, places a hand underneath his chin and lets his other hand run gently over the curve of his ear to tuck the hair behind it.

Erik is fishing for Charles’s gaze, who refuses to give it to him until this moment. When their eyes catch Erik drinks in a fountain of emotions and he’s not sure if they’re his own or Charles’s. He leans in for a kiss but feels Charles move back instead, as he suspected he would so he remains unaffected.

Charles is looking for words to say, a heaviness settling in his gut and heat rising to his cheeks, “I’d rather not. Not in front of the statues.” He says this, feeling ridiculous, head turned away and a coldness between them that leaves the Prince confused. Erik laughs, which gets Charles’s wary attention.

“Before, you were quick to fall into my bed. Now, what is the matter, Charles? Only in the mood to seduce when I ask personal questions?”

Charles thinks he might hate Erik.

“Cease this talk. This is no place to have this conversation, I ask that you leave.”

“I’ve never seen a human blush such an adorable red, Charles.” His finger slowly traces his cheek, causing Charles to jerk his head away once again, a scowl on his face, “Though you really did respond so beautifully. I do wonder how much of you I could have enjoyed, had we not been interrupted.”

“Not much further than we had gone, I assure you.” He fumed, his pride waving an angry red flag, “Though my technique for avoiding awkward questions has been exposed, I shall resort to outright ignoring you from this point on.” Erik was inching closer to him, and Charles responded by inching back. They moved like it was a dance, not even thinking about it. All Erik wanted was to be closer, and Charles’s mind screamed ‘no’. 

“Ah, so you won’t tell me all of your mysterious little secrets? I’ve heard much from the townspeople, Charles. They have very interesting things to say about your character…” Charles felt his back press against a hard surface just as Erik’s hands came up to box him in on each side of his shoulders.

“Erik, I—“ Erik leans in close, close enough that Charles can smell a soft scent of metal and pine, “You don’t understand, I can’t- You need to go.“

“Can’t what, Charles? Leave? Take a break from that frustrating mind game that you play? Come, darling, what are you hiding? Why…” He slowly draws away, gazing down at the flushed face of the man, “did the King send you those ashes? Who are you, really?”

“I do not have to answer to you. Arrest me if you will, but I will not answer you. I refuse.” Charles’s heart is beating in his throat and he pushes Erik away. He scurries from the wall and moves to a more open area of the room, one closer to the exit, “You cannot cause trouble in this town. If the locals know I am the one who brought you here, they…” He swallows thickly.

“The locals, yes. You’re on thin ice, I understand. But, you see, they are much more willing to speak to a Prince.” Erik turns, a fire in his eyes that burns the edges of Charles’s fingertips, “So, when I ask of you, and they say you watch over the temple _the Temple of Shaw—_ ” Erik lashes out a hand, and suddenly the belt around Charles’s hips prevents him from moving. He walks up to him, placing a hand under his chin once more, “I’m going to need an explanation.”

Charles knows that asking him to let him leave would not amount to anything, so he squares his shoulders and looks him dead in the eye, “What was in the message your father had sent?”

It didn’t throw Erik off too much, so he raises his brows in amusement and pulled his hand away. As he did so, there was a tug on Charles’s belt and he came tumbling forward into Erik’s chest and an arm wrapped around his shoulders to keep him in place, “My father does not need the Spymaster’s permission to order an arrest, should you not give a truthful answer. There has been another attack.”

Charles is quiet, chest burning with shame over the fact that his heart is beating wildly, equal parts in fear and betrayal. The threat lingers in the air, what kind of an answer was the King looking for? “And, as I said before, not here.” He tests his weight and can tell there is no longer a hold on his belt, “Tonight. Join me tonight, I will tell you everything,” Erik’s eyes light up, but Charles frowns, eyes desperate, “on one condition just… leave, please. Leave Haven, leave me in peace.”

The prince looks skeptical, but he understands. He really does. Charles is surrounded by a haze of mystery, it’s hard to get a read on his actual character. Once seductive and elusive, he now seems more frightened like his facade is on the tipping point of shattering into pieces. He does not know if he can honor his agreement with him, should one come to pass. He waits on his answer, not too keen on agreeing. On any other circumstance, he would have jumped at the chance to get to know Charles better, “Very well. My tent, tonight.”

___________________________

 It is just after dusk when Charles arrives. He comes in, without a single glance at Erik, and sits himself down at a chair next to the table covered in books of all sizes and age. Taking the time to look at each of the titles with genuine interest, Erik clears his throat and it pulls him from his procrastination.

“What do you know about dragons, Erik? I’m sure your father has made you take a lesson or two on them.” He toys with the edge of a binding, fingers lightly skimming the edges.

“I know enough. I also know the rumor about the Temple of Shaw.” Erik placed a hand on Charles’s, pulling it away from his books.

“That’s very studious of you.” 

Erik kneels before Charles, hand still firmly grasped, “Tell me it is not what I suspect. 

“I may avoid, but I will not lie.” He pauses, but Erik waits for him to continue. When he doesn’t, Erik gives a gentle squeeze of his hand. Charles does not know how to react to this. This tent smells like him, like oak and sweet minty oils. It helps him take a breath, it comforts him in a way that leaves his chest numb, “You will arrest me." 

When he says it, it leaves Erik’s ears ringing. This is something he had suspected he might have to do, but he had an infatuation with the man that made it hard to complete his duties, “I might.” He tries to coax Charles to continue with his eyes, to no avail, “If it is a dragon, if it is Shaw that had attacked Lothering, I need to know. You need to tell me, Charles. How are you connected to Shaw?”

“Shaw lived in the mountains, sealed, for… years _, centuries_. The seal keeping him was supposed to be unbreakable. But Shaw is the being that destroyed Lothering. Shaw is the monster that killed all of those people and almost- almost killed my sister. I saw him fly out of that mountain myself.” 

Erik stares in disbelief, hand clenching and his mind spinning with so many more questions from one answer. In his mind, he is already formulating a letter to be returned to his father. If it is a dragon, they must be prepared. Wrapped up in his mind, he lets Charles’s hand go and stands, quickly grabbing a quill and writing this down on paper, “Then he must be stopped.” He’s scribbling away furiously but comes to a sudden stop, “Charles, why did you not tell me this from the start? Why did you not tell _anyone_ of his presence months ago?”

“That’s the… that’s the tricky part, you see.” Erik can see his adams apple move anxiously, “The villagers, Shaw, they won’t let me leave.”

“That means little to a prince with an army.” Charles turns white, ducking his head and placing a hand on his chest.

“You misunderstand, they threaten not just me, but Raven too.” 

When he looks back up, Erik can see the world Charles lives in, in his eyes. He resumes his position on his knees, a hand on Charles’s shoulder, “She is a _Spymaster_ , Charles. She is a woman in her own right, the strongest warrior I know. As the Spymaster, our army is at her disposal regardless.”

But he knows this already, has gone over it a thousand times. It is not a risk he is willing to take, “They will kill me on sight, I’ve tried to leave before. I’ve… it caused Lothering to—“ He’s shaking visibly, but feels Erik squeeze his shoulder in comfort. It makes him feel nauseous, “I do not wish death, for Raven or any who protect her. It is better you leave me here, Erik.”

Erik shakes his head, hands coming up to frame Charles’s cheeks, “It would not sit well with my conscience or my heart should I leave you here. We will sneak you out, we’ll find-“

“You don’t understand.” There are tears in his eyes, the blue bright and brilliant and everything that Erik has ever wanted, “I am the one who set him free.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My plot changes each time I write a chapter, not too important things but enough to cause it to shift. I'm not too happy with this chapter, but this is my first story I'm posting so I assume that's the norm!  
> Pretty nervous about posting this time around, let me know what you think :)


	4. Game, Set, Match

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy January!

The ground is rumbling, and for one terrified moment Charles thinks they’re under attack. He thinks Haven’s villagers are barging into the camp with knives a pitchforks, torches to set him ablaze on a pyre and all he can think is— _Wake. Up._

Charles is in a prisoner carriage. Half of his face is flat against the wooden floor and his body is thrown about carelessly. The bars confining him remain steady in his foreground, but the trees move slowly in the background. They seem like they’re moving by faster by the second and he feels sick. And then he remembers.

Erik had arrested him last night. He had stupidly tried to resist a guard once they caught him running away from the camp, and met the pommel of their sword with his temple. 

It wasn’t his finest moment.

And now that his equilibrium isn’t the best, kudos to the guard who gave him the worst migraine imaginable, he can hardly sit up. When he does, an uneasy lurch pushes at his stomach. 

They weren’t in Haven anymore.

Any color that might have been left in his face vanished and Charles whirls around to look at the procession of Erik’s military contingent. His head swims and he manages to mumble a, “Pull over.”

The guard guiding the carriage might have laughed, so Charles spoke louder, “ _Pull over_.” There was a tightness in his throat, and Charles was so glad he didn’t eat anything too heavy.

“PULL OVER!” He shoves his hand through the bars and grabs the guard by the hair, yanking him to the left. And in doing so, yanking the carriage to the left.

It’s wasn’t an impressive tumble, but the carriage did tip onto it’s side in a ditch, and the driver jumped away while rubbing at his scalp. Charles, however, threw up whatever was in his stomach onto the bars that now act as the floor.

“-rles. Charles!” The bars at the opening of the carriage pull apart and a shadowy figure stands at the entrance, hands reaching out for him. 

He’s pulled from the tipped transpo and can see a man and a woman untangling the horse from it’s bindings, “Can’t leave Haven.” He says, words garbled on his useless tongue, too thick and cotton filled for his mouth. His head rolls back and he’s steadied onto the ground. 

“I’m sorry sir,” A woman says, somewhere in the distance, “I’ve scrambled his brain.”

“He’ll be fine, Pryde. Get water.” Warm hands land on his face, on either side of his cheeks, and he whimpers.

“Can’t… can’t leave…”

Rustling. “Pryde, have the men continue their course, we’ll be right behind you. You’re okay, Charles. Here.” Something is uncapped and fingers pulls his chin down so his mouth opens. Water is urged into his mouth, and it quells an ache Charles didn’t know he had. Then he’s moving, up and up until he’s seated on a leather surface that isn’t too comfortable, but that’s okay because if he just leaned forward a bit there would be a nice comfortable pillow… and he could… just…

_______________________

Erik keeps one hand on Charles’s chest, steadying him on the horse as he stands next to him, “Charles. Charles, hey.” He pushes slightly, trying to jostle him awake to no avail, “Wake up!” He grunts in frustration, looking at the saddle and trying to figure out a way to get on without making Charles fall, and making sure he was in the front with one hand. He was glad his company had moved on without him. Placing a foot in a stirrup and a piece of rope in his mouth, he swung his other leg over the horse’s head. He grabbed Charles’s hand at the same time and took a seat, grabbing at the other hand so Charles’s wouldn’t fall off the other way instead. He wrapped the pale hands around his middle and tied them together, so he wouldn’t budge. 

He also took a minute to feel proud of himself before setting off down the road. 

It was quiet without the presence of everyone else. Just the heavy footsteps of the horse, the metal clacking of his sword tapping against the horse’s side, Charles’s breathing, and their clothes rubbing together. He finds himself fretting over Charles’s behavior the day before, worried about how anxious and distraught he had become. He wished to never see him like that again.

“You know-“ He says to himself, “-Lothering wasn’t your fault. Shaw isn’t attacking because you tried to leave, he’s attacking because that’s what he does. Attack. To me, whatever happened, happened. Not everyone will see it like that… but…” He sighs, a frown on his face, “you said you released him, and I hope, for your sake, and mine, that it’s not as simple as that.”

Charles’s head is pressing into his right shoulder, more as a calming pressure than anything else. He can hear is low and heavy breaths, ghosting over the back of his magenta cloak which covers the leather cuirass that keeps the cold away. He thinks he can almost feel the warmth of his breath through his layers onto his shoulder, and he can definitely feel that Charles’s hands have slipped and are currently resting fully on his cock and he completely loses his train of thought. 

Definitely not uncomfortably, no, but he has never moved to untie a knot so fast. He pulled Charles’s arms up and put them around his shoulders, tying them again. It was a one man saddle, Charles’s was higher up anyway so it wasn’t such an awkward position.

Heart clamoring inside his chest, he moved on.  
__________

When Charles wakes, Erik has caught up with the group and they’ve set up camp. He’s also tied to a wooden post that’s been dug into the ground next to the campfire. Which is nice. His head is better and the warmth doesn’t hurt. It also looks as if everyone is in their tents, which means he should take that as the blessing it is. So he tests the ropes that keep his hands around the post and his shoulders back. 

They might as well be chains.

They’re likely far from Haven now, he’s surprised they weren’t attacked on his way out of the city. Erik wasn’t quiet about it, they had a full blown audience. But no one attacks Royalty without repercussions, even crazy cults understand that. 

“How’s your head?” He looks up to see Erik stepping outside of his tent, flap blowing in the cold wind, “I was just about to bring you inside, one of my troops said it’s about to start snowing again.”

Charles eyes him, wondering just how soon he’s going to finally cut him loose, “My head, it feels better. My pride, not so much.” Erik chuckles, which Charles doesn’t like, “You didn’t have trouble leaving Haven? You’re not as battalion sized like when you first passed through.”

“No, I suppose we’re not. More of a company, now. But no, no issues leaving.” 

They’re silent for a moment, Erik looking at Charles while Charles looked at anywhere else but Erik. He can tell Erik is making sure he is okay, truly mentally okay after yesterday’s events before his arrest.

“Did they attack you before?”

“They… Uh, yeah. I guess that’s what you can call it. About seven of them tracked me down on horseback. They dragged me back by a rope around my leg.” Erik’s eyebrows rose, surprised and disgusted from the cruelty done to Charles, “They don’t like sudden departures. They questioned me, asked me if I was going to tell anyone about Shaw.”

“Does Mystique know?”

“If she does, she never said anything about it. She was probably too young when she actually lived with the townspeople. So, no, no one knows. Except you, now, I suppose.” Erik can see his shoulders flex, “Can you untie me now? Please.” Charles won’t look him in the eye and, although Erik feels bad, he doesn’t untie him just yet.

“How did you find shaw?”

“If you think I’m going to sit here and go over years of data and research with you, then you-“ He bit off his scathing words with a grunt and shook his head, “I’m not going to go over everything for you, but all my data and texts and history discussed an absolutely fascinating genetic evolution, I couldn’t stay away. Thus Haven. Thus Haven’s mountain. Thus Shaw.”

“But how did you awaken Shaw?” Erik didn’t think he would get a response after a few moments, so he opened his mouth when-

“There was a test, the guide said if I passed it I would get a boon. Only the faithful can pass it.”

“Faithful to S-“

“No.”

It’s silent again and Erik knew if he asked ‘faithful to who?’ he would definitely not get an answer. But Charles resumed speaking.

“I passed this test, and thought there was going to be some marvelous treasure as my prize, hopefully knowledge about genetic evolution, and this… this guide just,” He bites his lip hard, seeming to curl in on himself, “says there’s one more part. He needed a vial of my blood. Like the idiot that I am, I give it to him. Long story short, there’s a sleeping dragon, and he feeds it the blood of the faithful. So Shaw awakens and there we go, that’s it.”

_Blood magic_. Part of Erik wonders how Charles could be so foolish, but this event happened many years ago. The real worry was why was Shaw active now? “You couldn’t stay away.”

“You wouldn’t be able to either.” Charles was glad Erik wasn’t trying to make him keep eye contact, he would likely beg for forgiveness.

“You think so?” He scoots closer to Charles, pulling a knife from his boot and pressing it against the ropes behind Charles, “I’ll cut these, but you can’t run away, understand?” He waits until Charles nods his head and slices through the ropes. 

Charles winces, feeling the blood rush back into his hands all at once and dammit that hurts. He brings them to his chest, trying to rub his wrists and shoulders all at the same time, “Here, let me.” Erik reaches for his hands, grasping one and rubbing his thumbs over the tendons in his right hand.

“Normally aftercare comes after the sexual liberties have taken place, in case you were lost in the timeline.”

Erik laughs, and it’s a warm, beautiful thing.

“Why are you flirting with me? You cannot possibly think it will help you.”

“It won’t?” He tilts his head to the side in mock innocence, a smile lifting to his eyes.

Erik, refusing to be persuaded, like the stubborn royal mule he is, simply says, “I have duties, responsibilities.”

Charles is quiet again, eyes tracking a pair of ants as they wander, touching rock to rock to look for a break crumb to take home, “There’s something about you, you can’t fault me for trying.” But there was something about Erik. Something that burrows itself underneath his sternum, a cocoon hanging, aging, and bursting with a new life and a potential for greatness. Maybe if they were somebody different, maybe in another life together, maybe. He gives a sad shrug, smile on his face, “Sharing body heat passes time in the Winter.” Some thoughts should be quietly whispered. Most, left unsaid.

Erik looks him in the eyes, trying to figure him out, yet even more confused than before.

“You know, most people would have left my hands on their crotch.”

It took Erik a few moments, but he soon went scarlet to the very tips of his ears because that means Charles was awake.

Oh, fuck, Charles had heard him and any indication of that being true was left in the air by the smile ghosting on Charles’s lips, “But Princes must be gentlemanly.”

Erik stood so fast his legs ached, mouth opened to protest but not a single sound would come out. He held Charles’s gaze in a challenge. There’s something there, hidden between the speechless buffoon and blameless idiot that sparks to life and takes hold of time. A warmth is exchanged between two very different set of eyes, a challenge met and then, in the heat of battle, he says, “Come then, to the cot.” turns about-face, and marches into the tent.

Charles grabs the discarded rope, and tries not to trip over his weary feet as he chases him into the tent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a bit of a writers block for a while. I knew what I wanted to happen next I just wasn't confident in being able to write it in the way I wanted to. But I'm pretty satisfied with this one! So I hope you enjoyed chapter 4! I'd love to hear what you thought, constructive criticism goes a LONG way in helping me get the juice to write, so please drop a comment if you've got the time!   
> What do you guys want to happen next? What do you thiiiink will happen next? What will Charles do with that sexy piece of itchy rope?  
> Thanks for sticking around!
> 
> -Meta


End file.
